


Soul of a Lion

by Devilc



Category: Warrior (2011)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 01:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy Conlon began finding his family during an 18 month term for desertion in Leavenworth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul of a Lion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azewewish (Brenda)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/gifts).



> The prompt was:  
>  _As I said earlier, I'm on a big family kick this year. And the family dynamics in this film hit a particular chord with me. I love that Tommy and Brendan both ran away (each in their own way) to save themselves, but neither one could outrun their past, and I love that they both learned to channel all of their anger towards their father and guilt not being able to save each other and their mom and sheer rage at the world into "socially" acceptable avenues, and I love that, in the end, they managed to start on the path towards forgiving themselves and each other and forging a new beginning._
> 
>  _I don't necessarily see a sexual aspect to their relationship, but you could probably sell me on it if it's written right, so if the incest angle is your thing, go for it (as long as Tess doesn't get shafted, because I adore her and she really is the rock of Brendan's world.) But honestly, what I really want is anything dealing with Tommy and Brendan taking those small baby steps towards rediscovering each other and learning how to be brothers again after Tommy's served his time in Leavenworth (or, hell, maybe the desertion charges were dropped in light of Tommy's heroic actions, that's fine, too - I feel certain Brendan used part of his winnings to buy the best lawyer he could for his brother.) And if you can work in Tommy learning to be an uncle, and Tommy and Tess feeling each other out on having each other as part of the family now and how Brendan's dealing with his own residual feelings of guilt, that would rock._
> 
>  _(And if you wanted to include Brendan and Tommy taking those same baby steps towards building an adult relationship with Paddy, that's awesome, but I know that's a hard road to travel for a lot of people, so don't feel obligated to put Paddy in the fic.)_

Tommy Conlon began finding his family during an 18 month term for desertion in Leavenworth.

Tommy thought sometimes it could be a good thing to have walls and guards, and snoops reading your mail, monitoring your phone calls, and tracking the websites you surfed to. It meant you had to think about what to say, and how badly you wanted to say it. Yeah, it might feel good to vent at somebody _right now_ , but it also might mean not hearing from them for a very long time, or at all, and when you're in one of the nation's most notorious prisons, a word from the outside let you know you hadn't been buried alive like some of the others.

A flood of letters, mostly from fans, came during his first three months of incarceration, but now that he's got only three months to go, the fanmail has pretty much stopped and he's down to a handful of regulars, and, frankly, he's fine with that. Not that he was an ingrate and a bastard, but honestly, Tommy felt he hadn't done anything worthy of earning that kind of adoration. (He always wrote back to the kids, though. Told them to pay attention in school, told them to train hard, told them to stand up and do the right thing, and to never start a fight, but always finish them.)

Of his regulars ...

Mark Bradford wrote him a letter on the first of every month. Tommy made a point of replying within a week of getting it. At first, Mark had some incredibly mixed feelings about what he'd done -- putting that video on YouTube started the chain of events that saw Tommy court marshaled and sent to Leavenworth. Tommy flat out told him to can that shit. He deserted, plain and simple. He knew this day was coming, that it was "when, not if" and all things considered, better sooner than later. This way, he wouldn't have decades of looking over his shoulder to look forward to.

Their letters had now moved on to other things: Mark's promotion to Sargeant, the crap food at the mess tent, those fucking shamal winds, sports, movies, and what they planned to do when they got out. Mark had his eye on taking some courses at his local JuCo when his enlistment ended. Tommy said had no set ideas about what he planned to do, but he'd figure something out when he went back into the world.

(Frankly, there weren't that many options open to convicted felons with GEDs who only knew how to fight. He tried not to think about that, because all that did was get you all riled up and worried, and that wasn't good for a damned thing.)

Paddy dropped a line whenever he felt like it. One month Tommy got five postcards from him. Sometimes the gap went as long as three months. Each letter included an update about how many days sober he's been. Last month he said, "I'm sorry if you like me better as a drunk, but I like me better sober." He also sent a battered copy of _Moby Dick_ ... as if the prison library wouldn't have a copy of a classic like that. Most of the time Tommy didn't write Paddy back -- it was hard to find the right things to say -- but for this, he used one of his carefully hoarded phone calls.

"Dad," he said (and the word stuck in his mouth, but he got it out) as soon as Paddy accepted the call "I been thinking about it, and I never knew you as anything but a drunk, so I think that's why I said that. I didn't know you any other way and it was weird. I like you better sober, too."

And then he hung up.

His nieces drew him pictures. Most of them he kept tucked in an envelope, but one of them he taped above his bunk. On the back, a note in handwriting that must be Tess's, explained that it was a drawing of a Princess MMA fighter. Tommy smiled every time he thought of somebody trying to pull off a roundhouse kick or put a hammerlock on an opponent while wearing a frilly pink dress.

Brendan called him the second week of every month and ... they talked about a lot of things. It amazed Tommy that you could love somebody so much and still they could make you so goddamned mad that you'd have to go back to your cell and do pushups on your knuckles for 30 minutes before you calmed down.

Brendan offered to put Tess on several times, until Tommy finally told him, "I don't want to talk to her again until I'm a free man. But I see how she's got your back. Don't think I didn't see that. She's your rock." _But you chose her over Mom_ went unspoken.

But not unheard. "You're not giving her a chance!" Brendan yelled at him.

 _Fuck you, I am._ Tommy hung up and Brendan didn't call him for six weeks, and when he did, Tommy suspected that Tess put him up to it.

He and Pilar alternated between contacting each other. Next to the drawing of the MMA Princess, he hung a picture of Manny, Pilar, and the kids. Apparently she, Brendan, Tara, and Mark have started a petition for a presidential pardon. She wasn't supposed to mention it, but she just couldn't keep it a secret any longer. Tommy said, "Please don't tell me any more about it. Just -- please." If he had learned one thing from life, it's that getting your hopes up only ended with them getting cut down to size. Wish in one hand, shit in the other. He believed in _doing_ , not hoping.

The letters, if you could call them that, that surprised him the most, started coming last month from Frank Campana, Brendan's (now ex) coach. CDs of music -- Tommy donated most of them to the prison library after he listened to them -- and last week it was a DVD of all his fights, each of them set to a different piece of instrumental music. Tommy recognized a few of the classical pieces, but some of it was jazz, and not that Kenny G shit, or ragtime, but stuff with weirdly layered beats and horns that didn't do what you thought they would, but instead played some other note that was just as right, only not what you expected.

The guards put it on the TV and played it for everybody on his cell block.

Tommy's reputation preceded him into Leavenworth and this only clinched it. He thought he might need to ask for a transfer to protective custody after they played it, not because he felt afraid of anything or anybody -- nobody _dared_ step to him -- but because he needed to get away from all the looks of adoration and awe and all the other guys who wanted to be his new best friend. He didn't need (or want) starfuckers and flunkies.

After stewing it over a bit, Tommy wrote a short letter to Frank and thanked him for the disks. "But, let me be square with you: I only train under my pops because it's always worked for me."

Frank wrote him back and said that he didn't necessarily expect Tommy to train under him, because he'd already figured out a lot of what he had to teach other fighters, but he'd like to talk with him and see if they could find a way to work together when Tommy got out. He signed his letter "You've got the soul of a lion."

 _Soul of a lion._

Tommy thought about that phrase as he did pushups, crunches, and squat jumps -- USMC Yoga -- in his cell to pass the time. It tumbled around in his mind, becoming a cadence.

What did it mean to have the soul of a lion? Did that make those closest to him his Pride?

Tommy didn't know yet ....

.... but one way or another, once he left this place, he planned find out.


End file.
